


The second one to crawl out of hell

by insertcleverpennamehere



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Centaur Awesamdude, Drabble, Dreamons, Gen, Minecraft, Pogtopia, Respawn system, This idea came to me when my depression and my mcyt obsession went on a date, dream is dead but then not dead, l'manburg, the dreamons mess with Dream's respawns :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28872201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleverpennamehere/pseuds/insertcleverpennamehere
Summary: “I think he's one of those rare species called a ‘transmuted dreamon,’” Tubbo said, staring into the fire with a consternated look. “Which means that he quickly swaps between the two. I think when we did the ritual, we got rid of the Dream part. And kept the... the Dreamon part.”
Comments: 15
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

_ “I think he's one of those rare species called a ‘transmuted dreamon,’” Tubbo said, staring into the fire with a consternated look. “Which means that he quickly swaps between the two. I think when we did the ritual, we got rid of the Dream part. And kept the... the Dreamon part.” _

~~~~~~

For the record, fifteen against one was a very unfair fight. Dream was sure he had this one in the bag, however. That was only fifteen people to keep track of, fifteen people to flee from, fifteen people to outwit and defeat. (Techno was one of them. Clearly, he’d done something bad enough to warrant the Blood God breaking their deal.) 

_ I can work with that,  _ he figured, ramming his shield into someone’s stomach as he ducked a crossbow bolt.  _ Look at them, all angry. It feels good to see them working together.  _

Tommy was rushing him now, sword held low. They were taking turns, trying to wear him out; a tactic that would’ve worked against a normal opponent. It probably helped them that he was cornered in the mineshaft, unable to turn his back to them to burrow away like he normally might’ve. 

_ I guess I’ll just have to kill them all.  _

More than one were on their last lives. It would be a pity to see them go, but they had it coming. They were the biggest troublemakers, afterall. 

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this, Dream,” Bad said, flanking him from the right with his trident. The red pigment in his horns and face had long since faded, residual effects from when he’d been possessed by the blood vines. Now he moved like a glitchy black and white TV, unpredictable nature a welcome challenge. 

“Aw, really?” Dream grinned. “I was just starting to have fun!” 

“He means this,” Sam said, and in the second it took Dream to process, heat exploded behind and under him. 

_ TNT, _ he realized.  _ They had more people burrowing in the walls around us to plant it. Poetic. Clever.  _

He was falling, facing the wrong direction: up. He caught glimpses of faces and torchlight far above before something solid slammed into him and the world cut out, a silenced radio wave. 

~~~~~~

Dream was tired of darkness, honestly. It met him at every turn, mocked him and jeered at him, and no matter how far he ran, he always ended up in the same spot. Death sucked like that. 

The worst part, however, was not knowing what was happening in the alive world. That was  _ his  _ SMP up there, those were  _ his  _ people. Things hadn’t been resolved when he’d been banished from his own body, and he was afraid it would be all blown up if he ever returned. 

(Because he would return. He was  _ Dream,  _ and if anyone could find a way to cheat death, it had to be him. Unfortunately the only other person in this hellscape, some ram hybrid named Schlatt with an obsession with protein powder, seemed entirely uninterested in paying him attention.) 

He had dreams, sometimes, or maybe they were little glimpses into the overworld. He could see Tommy bathed in the orange glow of lava. ( _ Oh Tommy, stubborn, fireheaded Tommy, one of the only ones who could out talk Dream.)  _ A black-and-white teenager with mismatching eyes and a book always under his arm. George with his goggles pushed up his forehead, tears forming in his eyes.  _ (He was always looking at Dream in that snapshot. His gaze burned.)  _ Technoblade in full netherite, holding up a fireworks launcher. ( _ What did Techno have to do with his server?)  _ Someone with a transparent yellow sweater and eyes crying blue dye.  _ (His hair looked like Wilbur’s.)  _

He should’ve respawned when he died. He couldn’t remember  _ how  _ he died, but he knew that he’d had more than one life left when it happened. Even now he could feel something dragging him down whenever he reached towards those glimpses, a thick blanket draping itself over his mind and rocking him to sleep. He hated it. He hated that he enjoyed it, sometimes. Sometimes it was just easier to forget. 

One day, something loosened. The drug on his mind eased. Then it strengthened again, but he’d already gotten a handhold on it, and found himself wrestling. 

It felt… alive. 

And somehow darker than death. 

Dream had a new enemy.  _ This _ he could work with. 

_ What are you? _ he asked it, snagging those memories of the overworld and clutching them tight. It didn’t like that. It thrashed and dragged at him like thick tar.  _ Who are you?  _

**_You,_ ** something hissed back. 

_ Never.  _ If he was capable of it, he would’ve screamed. Something in his head was splitting, tearing, cracking, and he nearly lost his hold on aliveness. The things he’d missed. 

_ The things you’re keeping me from.  _

Whatever it was, it wanted him to stay here, but he was done losing track of time, if he’d had a concept of time in the afterlife at all. Sometimes it felt like he’d been here minutes, other times a thousand years. He was  _ Dream,  _ made of fire, determination, cunning, love. This? This wasn’t. 

The glimpses had nearly slipped away, as if they’d never been there at all. He couldn’t remember much, but a single one slipped through a gap in the shadow’s struggle. 

_ Sapnap in full armor, face and sword streaked with blood, staring at him with disbelief in his eyes.  _

Whatever was cracking, broke. Dream slipped out of the darkness, reaching for that shard. It  _ hurt,  _ his heart hurt so much, because as he grew closer to it he recalled TNT, and a handshake, and the biting chill of high winds, and the screeching of withers, and a city  _ burning.  _

But it was something. He rushed through it and into new memories, ones he never recalled making, all filled with horror and betrayal and destruction. It was too much to process, but he saw their faces. 

_ Tommy, standing over lava, silent as he stared down at it with questioning eyes.  _

_ Wilbur, eyes crazed as he caressed a massive load of explosives.  _

_ Tubbo, face blank as he turned his back on his best friend.  _

_ Quackity, respawn scars marking his face, golden wings hanging low and dirty.  _

_ Ranboo, sweet Ranboo, curled in on himself as he cried.  _

_ Jack, walking through wreckage with empty eyes and a tight grip on his sword.  _

_ Niki, wreathed in flames with a torch in hand.  _

_ Eret, sitting alone on a throne in an empty castle.  _

_ Fundy, a smile on his face as he burned the flag his father made. _

_ Connor, never leaving his back exposed to an open room and avoiding water. _

For the first time in too long, Dream felt stone under him. 

Really, though, that was all he felt besides the cold. He didn’t know where he was, or why the voices drifting down from so far overhead were familiar. 

_ “...Shaft…” _

_ “Unstable…” _

_ “....leave…. die.”  _

“Sapnap?” he opened his mouth to ask, but all that emerged was a gasp for air. He was throbbing all over, and logically he knew something was broken. He was dying. Again. He hoped it would be quick so he could respawn cleanly - 

The shadows scrabbled the fringes of his mind, and he choked on another breath. No. Dying meant going back with them, and they’d win. He could barely think straight right now, much less fight an intangible force bent on twisting reality. 

_ “He’s still alive?”  _

The voices were coming from that pinprick of light so far up. That voice… that voice was Tommy’s. Wait, no. Tubbo’s. 

“Please,” he gasped, fingers curling around broken rock. In another lifetime, he wouldn’t have begged. He was better than that. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. 

_ “Yeah, no, he’s still alive.”  _

Technoblade’s dry monotone. Dream couldn’t begin to understand what he was doing here. He didn’t remember whitelisting him. 

_ (The glimpses spoke of cold ravines, shaded lanterns, chuckles exchanged in the dark as they looked over a country on the road to self-destruction.)  _

His next breath interrupted itself, and he choked, struggling onto his side as he fought for air. Yeah, there were  _ definitely  _ broken bones. He’d entirely lost touch with his legs. “Sap,” he forced out. “Bad? An - anyone.” 

Rock clattered, and some debris scattered down around him. Bad’s voice drifted down.  _ “He’s - that’s me.”  _

_ “It’s a trick,” _ someone else ground out.  _ “It’s always a trick with him.”  _

_ (Sorry doesn’t cut it, Tommy - Put your stuff in the hole - it’s not your time to die - no one else cares, Tommy, I’m your only friend - I’ll let you keep your things today, as a gift.)  _

_ “What are we waiting for? Let’s finish him off.”  _ Quackity was there too.

_ “Just - wait. Let me go down.”  _

_ “Bad - ” _

_ “He’s my friend.”  _

More scrabbling.  _ “That’s what I’m worried about.”  _

_ Kill me, _ Dream wanted to say, if only he was sure he would come back the same person he’d fought to remain as. As it was, he was left with no choice but to lay there, awareness taking a road trip as he grappled with consciousness. He’d crawled out of death before. Surely he could keep from falling back in for five more minutes. 

Five minutes slipped into ten before he heard someone land at the bottom of the shaft. His back was to them, and his skin crawled at the thought of them finishing him off when he was defenseless. 

“Dream?” they asked, and it was Bad. Something wet slipped down his face in relief. 

He could only respond with a weak wheeze. Bad came around in front of him, a dark blur accompanied by unbearable torchlight. Dream closed his eyes against it. It was too much. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Bad murmured, carefully resting a hand on his arm. Dream leaned into it, because by  _ gods,  _ when was the last time he’d touched someone? When was the last time someone had touched him? “Honestly this didn’t go the way anybody expected, really. Least of all me.”

Dream could see, now that his eyes were adjusted to the torchlight, that all the pigment was leached from Bad’s body. Milky white eyes swept him, and never in his life had he wanted Bad to see, really  _ see. _

“Mask,” he rasped, somehow catching one of Bad’s hands in his own. 

Bad blinked at him in shock. “You… want me to take your… you want me to take your mask  _ off? _ ” 

He hoped his huff was interpreted as a yes. He was dying, and that should technically be priority, but maybe he was going to die either way. If that was true, he wanted to make eye contact with someone before he was dragged back down into oblivion. 

_ Human eye contact.  _

It was with trembling hands that Bad slid his mask away. It was already cracked from the fall. 

“Oh,” Bad breathed, unconsciously reaching a hand up to brush near his own eyes. “Oh. I see.” 

“Don’t... let me... die,” Dream rasped, deciding not to ask what Bad had seen. Once upon a time he’d known what his own face looked like, but apparently things changed. 

Bad reached into his own pockets and withdrew a couple of potion bottles, before growling under his breath and tossing them aside. “Harming. I thought I’d had those regen. Does anybody up there have regen potions on them?!”

_ “What do you need regen for?” _

_ “What do you think, moron, he’s gonna try to bring the tyrant back to life.”  _

_ “No, we don’t have any regen!”  _

“Yes you do!” Bad snapped, an authoritative edge to his voice. “I know Techno had at least three.” 

_ “I drank ‘em all.”  _

_ “You did not.”  _

“Send them down or I’m coming up there and taking them from you myself.” Bad rested his hand on Dream again, careful not to move him. “Something’s different about him, I swear. We can’t let him die.” 

The pause that followed was filled with too many spaces of unawareness. The dark blanket was clawing at him again, blurring the edges between reality and darkness. Dream once again found Bad’s hand and didn’t let go, not even when he finally felt a potion bottle being pressed against his lips. The regen burned going down. A second figure had joined Bad, but he couldn’t tell who it was. 

He was fine now, though. The darkness threatening him wasn’t death anymore. And Bad would protect him from the shadows. 

_ (A giddy chuckle, hands spread carelessly as red vines curled around his fingers. Screaming, water, a broken gaze. Apologies. A hand.)  _

The last thing he remembered was arms gathering him off the ground. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Drabble, a Drabble, Dra-dra-dra-drabble... *Techno voice* postin' this at midnight because why not, who needs sleep in this economy anyways? I write fake angst to distract from the real angst, it's just show biz, baby. Been harboring this little Dreamon concept as my pet angst mate for a while, figured I might as well share it with you guys <3
> 
> Edit: the title is a reference to local BAMF Jack Manifold


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author creates entire second chapter of one-shot for the sole purpose of giving Foolish, Sam, and Purpled some rocking characterization

Sam honestly thought Dream would be dead by the end of the day, which had long since been a standing sentiment. It used to be one of fond exasperation, which then morphed into concern, then fear, anger... satisfaction. 

Now wasn't sure what to think, as Bad and Sapnap climbed out of the hole (that he'd helped create) with an unconscious Dream in their arms. It was a state he wasn't used to seeing the admin in, and he forced himself to look at all the blood. While the region potions had done their job, he still looked one foot in the grave, and the centaur had to remind himself that he'd intended to put him there. 

He wasn't apologizing, no. The alternative had been to put Dream in the prison, but Dream had done what Dream did best: run. And after all the irreparable damage he'd caused, the server had had no choice but to hunt him down. Sam had been one of the first to take up arms, right after Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo - _kids._

"I'm taking him to my place," Bad said stubbornly, curled protectively around Dream. Sapnap hovered over his shoulder, daring anyone to argue. 

"What the hell changed down there?" Quackity demanded, one hand curling around his axe. "We were getting rid of him, no questions asked." 

"I know, I know," the demon snapped. "But - but something - it's complicated, okay? I'll bring as many guards as you want, you can all come if you want, but he's staying alive. I want to talk to him. We need to hear what he has to say." 

Tommy had fallen back, sword slack in his grip. Sam shuffled closer, offering a steadying hand, and Tommy unconsciously gripped his arm. He glowered at the small parade that formed on the way out of the mineshaft, and didn't move until their torchlight was almost gone. Tubbo came up on his other side and grabbed his hand.

"Tommy, I think I need to go with them," Sam said, gently prying his hand away. "I'm the Warden, so if anything happens I need to be there. Okay?" 

"That's fine, Sam," Tommy replied tersely. He was staring at the pit, now. "Why did no one come in after me, eh? Why did...?" 

Sam pretended he didn't hear that last bit as he galloped after the rest of them. 

* * *

Bad, true to his word, posted guards in the room where Dream was recovering. He'd appointed the most neutral parties, and now Sam was awkwardly avoiding eye contact with Foolish, Ponk, and Purpled, as they shared a room with the sleeping ex-dictator of the Dream SMP. Bad had left several minutes ago to update everyone who was now camping in his mansion's living room, not that there was much to update them on. 

Sam readjusted his footing and leaned on his trident, glancing out the window to his left. There was a creeper on the roof staring at him, and he stared back. After a second it turned away and dropped off the edge. There was a _boom_ and the sound of someone yelling in frustration. Probably Skeppy, considering it was his front yard that had been griefed. 

"So... creeper centaur, huh?" Foolish asked, scratching his eye. And not just the spot around his eye, no, his actual eye, which was solid green and pierced into Sam's soul no matter which way he was looking. "Funky." 

Sam channeled his inner Warden and deadpanned. The prismarine blue mask he wore over the bottom of his face helped hide his grimace. Foolish raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry man, just trying to make small talk. I'm new." 

"And you're annoying," Purpled interjected, balancing his bare sword dangerously on his shoulders. A sucker hung idly out of his mouth. Sam tried to remember if he'd ever seen the kid without one, even during fights. "Totem baby." 

"That's a compliment." Foolish grinned, revealing a row of serrated teeth. Sam decided that when he got home he'd pour himself a big cup of chamomile tea and whiskey and try to forget about the past week entirely. He'd woken up that morning planning on going red stone mining, and here he was, twenty-four hours later, halfway through a maybe-botched coup that had every damn person on the server up in arms. "You've been awfully quiet, Ponk. Cat got your tongue?" 

Ponk somehow sent him a look dirtier than Sam's. "You say _one_ throwaway line..." 

Sam thumped his trident on the ground, effectively breaking up... whatever the hell kind of confrontation was brewing. "That's enough. We have a job to do." 

"I have money to make," Purpled corrected. "So the sooner Dream wakes up - " 

Dream, previously as motionless as the dead, sat up abruptly with a yell. Foolish shrieked and leapt into Sam's arms while Purpled swung his sword at the source of the disturbance. Ponk was the only one who reacted appropriately, holding his hands up to calm a panting Dream. 

Sam dropped Foolish to the ground and stepped over him and into Dream's line of sight. The admin's mask was pushed up his face, which was enough to catch him off guard, but when he looked up and met Sam's eyes - 

"Woah," Sam gaped. 

Dream's eyes were completely pupil-less. 

Dream didn't say anything, and no one seemed willing to break the silence first. He slid out of the bed and went to the window, where warm sunlight was streaming through. One hand rested gently against the windowpane, and he closed his eyes as he tilted his face up against the sun. 

It was... more serene than anything Sam had seen from him in a long time. They watched, dumbstruck, as he slid his mask completely off and let it fall to the floor. He turned to face them, and now in full could they see the dirty blonde hair falling in his face, the long white scar that started at the corner of his mouth and ended at the opposite eyebrow, and those  _ eyes.  _

Sam wasn't unused to the sensation of not knowing where someone was looking. Bad had always been unnerving like that, and the rare times that Eret took off his sunglasses enough were enough to desensitize him. But he remembered when Dream's eyes had been green, before he started wearing his mask nonstop. Now they were leached of color, nearly the same shade of his palored skin. 

"Dream?" Ponk asked warily. "You okay, man?" 

Dream shook his head and chuckled. "That's kind of a stupid question, isn't it?" 

"It's hard to tell with you anymore, man," Sam said, trying to keep his hooves from skipping nervously. He unconsciously angled himself so he was blocking the door. 

Dream didn't miss this, but instead of ignoring it or wheedling, he just rubbed the back of his neck and turned back towards the window. "The sun," he whispered, pressing his hand against the glass. "When was the last time you stopped to just... feel it?" 

Purpled shared a wary glance with Sam. This wasn't the wakeup they'd expected, to say the least. Even now the kid was watching his every move closely, as if trying to read any moves ahead of time. Sam was more concerned with what Dream was saying, while Ponk was just confused and Foolish amused. 

"...I'll admit, it's been a while," Sam admitted, carefully approaching him. "We've all been rather... occupied." 

"With stopping me." 

"Yes. Among other things." 

The window overlooked the prison, the one that Sam had designed and built with his own two hands. Dream looked at it as if it were the first time seeing it. Sam rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he flinched, he drew away, but Dream reached up and grabbed his hand in a death grip. "I hurt people," he choked out. "I - I remember what I did, what my hands did what - what, my fear, my anger, it took it, used it, it was mine. It was my fault. I hurt them." 

"What took what?" Foolish interjected, promptly inserting himself into the conversation. He leapt up onto the cupboard by the foot of the bed and leaned forwards, glittering eyes studying the admin. Sam got the sudden sense that there was a lot more intelligence and cunning trapped in that golden skull than met the eye, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on the young totem god. 

"Something," Dream muttered, sullenly avoiding the question. 

"What took what?"

Dream released his grip on Sam's hand and wrapped his arms around himself. Foolish readjusted his frog-stance so he could meet Dream's eyes, dangerously overbalancing. "C'mon, I'm just gonna keep  _ askiiiiiiiing  _ ..." 

"I was dead." 

Foolish tumbled to the floor. Sam rubbed the space between his eyes, wondering when things had taken such an odd turn. 

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Purpled warned. "And feel free to elaborate. None of us here are blabbers." 

Dream let out a long sigh and abruptly pulled away, sitting down on the bed with less grace than likely intended. "I don't really know," he shrugged, some of his old smoothness slipping back into his voice. Everyone automatically tensed. "My memories are... disorganized. But I... but I..." 

He trailed off and his face scrunched up slightly in distress. "It's all a bit jumbled, you know?" 

"We really don't." 

He went still, head tilting slightly as he thought. It was almost more disconcerting without the mask, because his face was perfectly blank and his eyes even more blank and...

Sam shook himself out of whatever confused haze had settled over the room. "Your eyes, Dream."

The man in question blinked, surprised. "What about them?" 

Purpled winced. "They're - hang on. Anyone have a mirror?" 

Foolish popped up and whipped out a small compact mirror from his pocket, handing it to Dream. When everyone stared at him, he just shrugged. "What? It comes in handy out in the desert." 

Dream stared at his reflection for a long time, before he pursed his lips and closed it, handing it back to Foolish. The hair on the back of Sam's neck stood up. He'd never been the best at reading people beyond combat body language, and Dream had always been good at concealing his thoughts even without a mask. "They're all out there, aren't they?" 

"They want you to pay," Purpled said, hand resting on his sword hilt. 

Dream's gaze darted out the window, and a flicker of fear passed over his face. "The prison. I'd - go in there?"

"I think the general vote is either that or death," Ponk intoned. "You're not telling us something. What is it?" 

"Is it dark in there?" Dream asked, turning a burning gaze to Sam. "Did you - you built it, I remember now. I've been - I helped, it's dark. No. I don't want to - I can't be alone again. I can't - " 

His rambling broke off abruptly, and he regarded the room like a trapped animal. Sam tensed, readjusting the grip on his trident. "Dream, calm down." 

(He didn't want to recall days in their youth, when Dream would be holding the same posture as he stood in the doorway of their group's shack, eyes peeled for mobs. When he'd have the same carefully neutral expression as Bad stitched up a wound or set a broken ankle, jaw clenched in concealed distress.)

"I want to go away from here," Dream muttered, almost too quiet to hear. "Far away. Can I do that, please? You can - you can watch me, all of you, but I - the dark..." 

"Nothing is decided," Sam reassured him. 

"Not without everyone here," Ponk reminded. 

The trapped-animal look only grew stronger. Sam wasn't entirely sure who he was observing anymore. This wasn't the Dream he'd grown up with, and it certainly wasn't the Dream who'd done all those terrible things. This wasn't even the Dream he'd seen around the others, the deceptively friendly one who plucked on heart strings and moved chess pieces around like second nature. This one reminded him a bit too much of Tommy or Tubbo around explosives. Of Wilbur before he'd died, searching desperately for an out in a world that would offer him none. 

He caught a glimpse of the future, if he decided to take Dream out to the others and let them decide his fate. It wasn't a hard future to predict after seeing everyone around him spiral into similar ones. 

"Maybe," he started, and Dream lurched slightly, causing Purpled to draw his sword and Ponk to ready his shield. Sam held a hand up to calm them, then carefully reached up and slung his trident over his back. "Maybe I'm a fool for saying this, but I'd say I'm in the wisest company to consider it." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

"I mean that you get a chance, Dream. One last one. Because something's changed, and I'm tired of seeing people killed and imprisoned and blamed without any second chances." 

Foolish's head tilted so far sideways it nearly turned upside down as he looked between Sam and Dream. "I think that sounds like a great idea. I'll babysit, not like I'm doing anything else anyways. Plus, I've always wanted to build a mansion on one of those really tall mountaintops, like you know those monasteries that are perched on these crazy thin rocks for hundreds of years? Yeah." 

Ponk shook his head. "I don't think I can let you do this." 

Purpled chewed on his lip as he paced between the two windows, as tense as a bowstring. "I was payed to make sure Dream stays in this room, and I can't - "

"I'll pay you more," Sam abruptly said, crossing his arms. "I don't want to. I'd rather you come to your own decision, but I don't want to fight anyone." 

"You would be taking full responsibility for his custody, Sam," Ponk pointed out, crossing his arms. "Responsibility for his whereabouts, actions, words, and  _ no one  _ is going to agree with this. I don't think I can let him out of that door, not after what he's done to everyone out there. The people in this room are the only ones who haven't been directly affected by his actions, and I think we need to remember that." 

"I have," Sam shook his head. "I've been affected since the moment I took Tommy under my wing. I have more reason than anybody else here to see him in the most secure cell in that prison."

Dream hadn't moved at all, and that was starting to get  _ creepy.  _ He was probably tracking them with his eyes, but it was impossible to tell. "I don't want to hurt anyone else," he said. "I know that any apologies I have to give will fall on deaf ears, maybe rightly so. But I can't - I won't go to the prison, and I don't want to die, because if I die I can't guarantee what will take my place and we're right back where we started. I just... want to start over. No one has to deal with me anymore." 

Ponk sighed. "I still can't let you walk out of here." 

"You don't have too," Sam raised an eyebrow. Ponk paused, then sent him a bemused look. 

Purpled crossed his arms. "I think I have to say the same as Ponk, unless you cough something up. I won't be held accountable to the maniacs outside." 

"Fair enough," Sam shrugged. "Help us out and I've got a netherite block in my enderchest with your name on it." 

" _ A netherite _ \- shit, man, hell yeah." 

Dream stood smoothly, sending a half-hearted glance at the mask on the floor before he turned away. "I'll pay you back for this, Sam, I promise." 

"Clean your act up, and I'll be paid enough," Sam shot back, readjusting the armor on his back for a rider. He  _ rarely  _ let people ride him - basic centaur courtesy - and a part of him was already regretting it, but he didn't let himself think about that as Dream slid on, light as a feather, and carefully grabbed his shoulders. "Ponk, are we still on for Friday night?" 

"I'll be there if you are," Ponk grumbled, bracing himself. "Don't keep me waiting." 

Sam socked him in the jaw and Ponk collapsed to the floor, a new bruise already forming. Purpled drew his sword and threw the door open, Foolish's lanky form flanking him. The totem god chuckled to himself as they went along, steps springy against blood red carpet. 

Sam was not a naturally quiet person due to his size, but he stepped as lightly as he could as they traveled through the Skephalo mansion. Purpled led them downstairs, then cut up a second stairwell to one of the landing balconies overlooking the prison. 

The others were guarding the mansion, yes, but even Dream wouldn't go near the highest-security building in the world if he were running. 

Not without the Warden at his side, anyways. 

Guilt shot through Sam's gut when he thought of Tommy, and he nearly balked. This was just another form of betrayal, wasn't it? In more than one way. What if this was just Dream manipulating them again, trusting them with his life in their hands as a gamble, worming his way into the heart of the one person who could stop him, who  _ had  _ stopped him, Sam had set the TNT that had nearly killed Dream (actually killed?). 

_ I'm a fool, I'm a fool, I'm a fool -  _

Dream tightened his hold on his shoulders but didn't say anything. 

Dream wouldn't make it far without Sam. Sam would be betraying the trust of everyone he stood beside. 

He'd already committed. He couldn't stop halfway. He would just have to follow through and deal with the consequences. 

He already hated himself. 

"I'll cover your escape," Purpled said, and there was a distant shout inside the mansion as their absence was discovered. "Meet me under the Pokimane statue on Friday with the payment or I'll tip them off, got it?" 

"Got it," Sam nodded, indicating Dream to slide off. The only way off the balcony without breaking his legs was to jump onto the roof next to it and then roll to soften the rest of the way to the ground. Risky, but he'd done it before. Even so, parkour was  _ not  _ his favorite thing. Dream was already jumping, Foolish a half-step behind. Sam took a deep breath, giving himself a bit of starting room before vaulting over the railing and letting his hooves catch on the white shingles of the first story portico. They still slipped, and he settled for angling himself diagonially so he would just slide off the edge without breaking something. 

Someone on the first floor shouted - sounded like Quackity - when he tumbled heavily to the ground, and he knew they'd been spotted. Foolish laughed at him as he rolled upright and shook. 

"Still see you're most comfortable in the open," Dream laughed, swinging smoothly onto Sam's back as they took off past the prison. "That was the most awkward thing I've ever seen." 

"There's a reason I was never in manhunts," Sam called back, unhooking his trident as they approached the ocean. He didn't have a set plan for where they were going, just that they were going to run as far and fast as they could. "Pity you didn't take a picture, because I'm never doing that again." 

_ "Sam!"  _

Tommy's guttural cry ripped through the air. Sam stumbled, his front legs splashing into the ocean. He could take off right now into the water - Foolish had drawn his trident and was already whole chunks ahead. 

Dream's grip on his shoulders loosened, an offer to go ahead and leave Sam behind, but once again he didn't say anything. Maybe he realized that if he did he'd be digging his own grave, no matter what way he painted the situation, and Sam appreciated the discretion. 

But he couldn't leave Dream unsupervised, even if Foolish were with him. Foolish didn't understand the full gravity of what was happening, didn't understand the stakes of letting Dream go semi-free. Sam had to be there to make sure  _ nothing  _ went wrong. He could protect Dream from the rest of the server, and protect the rest of the server from Dream. 

Dream let out a shout and ducked a whizzing crossbow bolt. If anything, that sealed it for Sam. He splashed into the waves and raised his trident, and with a mighty rush the shoreline disappeared. 

Everyone swarmed the beach. Some were already making boats, others were summoning tridents. Tommy knew it was hopeless, though. Dream had slipped from their fingers, again. 

And he'd taken Sam with him. 

Sam had  _ helped Dream.  _

Techno had Purpled held securely by the arm. Tommy whirled and punched the teen in the face. A loud  _ crack _ ran out, and Purpled groaned, wiping blood from his nose. 

"What. The fuck," Tommy hissed, grabbing his purple hoodie and yanking him forward. "You  _ helped  _ them! Helped  _ him! _ What happened to loyalty, man?" 

"I work for the highest bidder," Purpled grit his teeth. 

"What could Dream  _ possibly  _ offer you that's worth more  _ death? _ " 

Purpled lifted his chin, meeting Tommy's blue eyes with his own grey cold ones. Tommy didn't understand what went on behind them. "Silence comes with the deal." 

Tommy punched him again for good measure, a solid left hook that Purpled didn't bother to defend. He let the mercenary slump to the ground, stepping over him as he stormed back to the mansion. Everyone watched him go. Even Tubbo. 

Good. He needed to go scream at something, alone.

Because it was becoming clear that was all he was. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every day I sit down to this story intending to finish it and every day I disappoint myself and only add more plot. 
> 
> Also writing centaurs is the funniest fucking thing and I feel like we need to write centaurs more often because have you ever SEEN a horse? They are the scariest, most beautiful, most powerful things when they're coming at you but when they're just chilling you wonder what planet in the universe they arrived from and who let them in


	3. Chapter 3

Bad was still waiting on the shoreline when the search party returned, arms wrapped around himself. The sun had long since set and now he looked to be a part of the sky, nothing more than a black shadow freckled with white. 

"Nothing," Quackity grumbled at him, sloshing out of the shallows. His trident hung low in his hand, prongs nearly scraping the sand. "We lost 'em. Happy?" 

"I never would've expected that from Sam," Tubbo murmured, sitting down heavily. Water plastered his hair over his eyes, but he didn't bother pushing it away. "Foolish, maybe, but Sam... He... he's supposed to help us  _ capture  _ Dream. Not help Dream escape." 

Jack, Niki, and Techno was the last to emerge, but they didn't have any commentary, ignoring everyone as they stalked away. A familiar presence came up behind Bad, and he felt Skeppy's hand rest on his shoulder. 

"There's food in the mansion," he told the rest of the search party. "Help yourselves - Prime knows we have enough room for everyone to stay." 

"Thanks Skeppy, but I think I'll head back to Snowchester," Tubbo rubbed his arms. "I know Ranboo and Tommy will want updates." He sounded miserably resigned at the prospect. 

Quackity disappeared in the direction of the mansion, where Bad was sure most of the SMP was gathered. Skeppy was right, it was nice to finally be hosting people - it had been too empty for the both of them for too long, especially when the Eggpire had been at its peak and it had fallen into neglect. He shivered at the memory of the egg, leaning back into the reassurance that Skeppy was there and free. Skeppy wrapped an arm around him and together they stood on the beach, watching tiny waves roll into shore. 

"I'm not sad he got away," he said finally. "He looked like how I felt, after we finally got rid of the Egg. In more ways than one. You think... you think maybe, he was just as much a prisoner as the rest of us?" 

"Doesn't excuse the things he's done." 

"No more than the Egg excuses the things I've done. I was afraid of losing you - those choices were all mine. But I was afraid. I just... wish I could've had a chance to talk to him. Maybe if I had been there. I think maybe Sam feels the same." 

Skeppy let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Small dustings of crystal fell out, and he smiled, holding the diamond glitter out to Bad. "Want some? Fresh off the press." 

"Ew!" Bad shoved him away. "I don't want your freaky dandruff." 

"Hey, it's valuable dandruff! I'm priceless, baby, a walking deposit of pure amazingness." 

Bad scoffed, but it was half-hearted, and he settled for falling back against Skeppy. It had been such a long day, but as he glanced back at his house where everyone was searching for answers, and realized that the day wasn't over. They'd be looking to seniority. That was Bad, Sapnap, and George, and yet he wasn't sure if anyone would be willing to listen to the people most likely to sympathize with Dream. 

"Maybe it was for the best," Bad mused, looking back over the water. Foolish, Sam and Dream were somewhere out there. "Like a time out. Sam will make sure he doesn't hurt anybody, so I guess it's up to us to make sure everybody here doesn't hurt each other." 

A snort escaped Skeppy. "Bit late for that." 

"Puffy will help," Bad protested. "It's not impossible. I think it'll do everyone a little good to rebuild without worrying about Dream." 

"I think Tommy's going to suffer the most from this, if I'm honest." 

"...yeah. We just can't let him isolate himself. Maybe I'll bake him something yummy, that'll cheer him up." 

They stood there for a few minutes more, silent as they watched the stars slowly move across the sky. Bad used to wonder what it might be like to stand up there among them, so cold and different from the fire he'd been born into and raised surrounded by. Now he knew they were just that: cold. 

"Ready to go in and face the music?" Skeppy asked, hand dropping down to grab his. 

"Ready as I'll ever be." 

* * *

He was drowning. 

Dream struggled upwards, arms outstretched towards the light, but heavy weights dragged him down, the surface hidden behind deeper and deeper layers of darkness. He hated the dark  _ so much,  _ wanted to burn it all away to nothing more than wisps so he could just  _ breathe.  _

He couldn't breath, though he tried as she struggled and thrashed upwards. Something was pulling at him, wanted him in its grasp. He  _ hated  _ it. 

A hand grabbed his own, and the darkness snapped away. He sat up with a violent gasp, then fell into a coughing fit. 

"Easy," Sam said, wrapping one arm around Dream as he struggled for breath. "It's fine." 

Outside, thunder rumbled. Dream rubbed his face and soaked in Sam's warmth for a bit longer before stumbling and going to the window to look outside. 

It wasn't as good as sunlight, but even getting his bearings was enough to calm him. He glanced at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. If he squinted outside hard enough, he could make out the garden soaking up water, the smaller plants protected from wind by mini-greenhouses he and Foolish had crafted. 

The rest of the house was surrounded by a sea of fog. They were at a sweet spot high on a mountaintop, where it was too low to get snow and too high to get rain, and Foolish had followed through with his plans to build a monestarian place. The house Dream now spent most of his time in had a lot of Asian influences, and by now it was comfortably familiar. White concrete was shaded by swooping dark oak roofs, and bamboo enclosed much of the area in a shaded grove. 

He stepped out onto the porch and rested his arms on the railing. Sam trailed him outside and relaxed next to him, crossing his arms. "You want to talk about it?" 

"Just the same thing," Dream shrugged hoarsely. "The feeling like something is cramming itself down my throat. Drowning. Being trapped. I don't like sleeping anymore now than I did a week ago, you know." 

Sam hummed noncommittally. 

Dream settled for changing the subject. "How did your trip back go?" 

"Fine. I payed off Purpled, talked to Puffy and Bad, had dinner with Ponk. It went as well as things could've, all things considered." 

"Did you see anybody other than those four?" 

"No. Only they know I was there in the first place." 

Dream took this in, then snorted and shook his head. "Now you're stuck here watching me until Foolish comes back." 

"Well, I wouldn't say 'stuck.'" 

Thunder rumbled, and Dream caught a glimpse of lightning through the clouds. They were safe from being struck, even this high up - the clearing was nestled at the base of a sheer peak, and Sam had rigged a lightning rod near the top of it. It made for some pretty spectacular light shows when the thunderstorms were angry. 

"Puffy wants to visit, you know." 

Dream gripped the railing and stared out into the garden. "...she does?" 

He remembered Puffy from years ago, when he'd still been a kid and leading this ragtag group of misfits across servers. Back before Sapnap had found Bad, before Dream had grown into his role as an admin, he remembered rainbow hair and smiling eyes, someone who'd let him tag along as she went about her day and encouraged him to open up.  _ Duckling, _ she'd called him, and it had stuck. 

She'd probably been the closest thing to a mother. 

"She does." 

"That's... fine by me." 

If his jumbled mess of memories recalled correctly, Puffy might've been the one person he hurt the least. He was afraid to care, though. Every night, more memories leaked through of the things he'd done while the part of him he hated the most took over. Every night, his mind warred with itself as two halves fought for control of a whole. When he was awake, he was free, but when he slept, it was just another battlefield. 

He was tired. 

"Do you want to spar?" 

Dream nodded and went inside to grab his gear. While sparring exhausted him, it helped chase away the heaviness in his arms and chest, and he could think clearly on his feet. Sam hummed and stepped off the porch, grabbing a bamboo staff. This was routine by now - Dream would wake up from a nightmare, Sam or Foolish would be there, and they'd spar until the sun came up, then they'd hunt or work in the garden until it went down and they were hungry enough to eat a whole cow. 

The monotony was comforting. 

By the time the sun came up, they were both drenched in sweat and mud. Sam called for a halt and Dream let his staff drop to the ground, stretching his back. The mist was beginning to burn away, most of the cloud cover carried south by the ever-present high winds of this biome. Water dripped from the leaves of the bamboo, and the plants in the garden glistened against the morning light. 

There were no words exchanged as they went inside and cleaned up. There wasn't much need for them anymore, and Dream still hated the sound of his own voice. 

(" _ I don't give a  _ **_fuck_ ** _ about Spirit! I don't give a fuck about anything, actually." ... "I'm not even real!"... "Hey Techno, got any withers?"... "I'm your only friend. I'm the only one who cares.")  _

He still wasn't entirely sure whose words those were. He only recalled events in bits and pieces, but he remembered speaking them. Remembered feeling something while saying them - something hot and angry in his chest, even if his words were as smooth as ice. But he couldn't for the life of him understand  _ why.  _

He was under no illusion he was free, and he didn't want to be. Sam was always at his shoulder as he went about his day, watching him. At one time he might've found it invasive. Now it was just a relief, knowing that someone he trusted was watching to make sure he didn't fall out of his own mind again. Making sure he didn't hurt someone else.

Dream wasn't the hero, in this scenario. He was the monster.

( _ "You're a monster."  _

_ "...okay.") _

Something was horribly, seriously wrong with him, and wished more than anything that there was something else to blame it on. But until an answer arrived, he would have to be content with never getting more than two hours of sleep and working until his hands bled so the questions would  _ stop coming.  _

He made himself a sandwich and went out to the garden. 

Sam settled under a tree overlooking the area with several blueprints while Dream weeded crabgrass out of the rows. Crabgrass really was the worst - it networked under the soil, so a tiny clump of grass turned into fifty, the roots extending further than thought possible. If Dream accidentally broke off a root ball he had to dig for it so it wouldn't grow back worse than before. The sun slipped overhead as he knelt in the mud, hands brown and dirt permanently embedded under his fingernails. The pile of crabgrass forming in the middle of their sparring ground grew along with the ache in his shoulders. 

By the time the pile was to his knees, most of the garden was cleared and Sam was bringing him a jug of water. He accepted it gratefully, and together they looked over the chaos Dream had wreaked on the neatly-lined rows. 

"Hard to tell what's crabgrass and what's the normal stuff," Sam remarked sagely. 

There was a deeper meaning there, one that Dream didn't miss. He'd imagined vines of darkness being ripped up all morning, interspersed with images of his hands laying down a network of obsidian and redstone. 

"At least the rows are clean," Dream said, staring down into his reflection. The gaze that stared back was still unfamiliar, but he didn't mind it too much. "Do you have a flint and steel for those weeds?" 

Sam handed it over. Dream stared down at it for several moments, the smell of gunpowder suddenly permeating his nose. He shook it away and struck a spark, letting the grass pile go up in a blaze.

Black smoke billowed into the air.

What else was there to do? He could expand the garden, or he could dig a channel down from the spring to irrigate it. He could - 

_\- burn down the house and slaughter the Warden and **run free -**_

The flint and steel dropped to the ground. Sam loomed behind him, and he flinched away, not liking the way his hands were twitching uncontrollably. 

"Dream?" 

"It's like the crabgrass, Sam," Dream whispered, the tang of blood inexplicably filling his mouth. "It digs and it spreads until I can't tell it from me and pulling it up is like pulling myself apart." 

"What is?"

"Something I think was always there." 

Before Sam could demand an explanation, Dream stalked back to the house. He wished he had more of an answer to give. Figuring out his head was like trying to mine obsidian with a stone pickaxe - chipping away sliver by sliver but progress murderously slow. 

Mobs would be out in a few hours. They could go hunting until he was too exhausted to swing an axe, then try to get some rest before the shadows tried to drag him down again. 


End file.
